


Doomed to fall

by skybluetrades



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 11:35:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybluetrades/pseuds/skybluetrades
Summary: “If you can best me, fair Achilles, then yes, I will honor your proposal. And if I win,” said Ares, “you will worship me once again, before the night is through. Have we got a deal?”
Relationships: Ares/Achilles (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30
Collections: Hades Kink Meme





	Doomed to fall

**Author's Note:**

> For the [kinkmeme prompt](https://hadeskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/741.html?thread=129509#cmt129509):
> 
> Ares gets a bit turned on by those that are good at dealing out death, and Achilles was very, very good at dealing out death. I'd love to see Ares get his hands on Achilles' shade and have his way with him. Perhaps it's a violent encounter where Achilles tries to fight back and Ares overpowers him (Achilles is good but he's not a god, after all), or perhaps it's a dubcon seduction scenario where Ares insinuates Achilles should be flattered by the attention Or Else, and Achilles goes along with it to keep Zagreus or Pat safe.

Lord Ares found him in the courtyard.

Achilles had once spent a great deal of his time here, training with the prince. Now with Zagreus away most of the time, he rarely visited this lonely area of the House of Hades. The window Zagreus used in his escapes was here, enticing him to climb out if he wished, though it was not the exit Achilles used when he visited Elysium.

He was sitting on the ledge, looking over Tartarus with an unaccustomed lightness in his chest (for he was leaving for Elysium shortly) when he heard the scrape of an unfamiliar footstep, belonging to neither of the persons Achilles would have expected to find in the courtyard.

A wariness instilled in him in life still clung to him in death; he turned and laid a hand on his spear lying by his side. A feeling of dread overtook him as his senses, sharpened even in death, took in the familiar scent of blood and iron.

“Peace,” said Ares, amiably enough. “I’ve found you.”

This did little to lower Achilles’ hackles; what could the god of war have to say to him? At the feast for the Olympian gods, Achilles had studiously avoided him amongst the throng of deities in the House. “My lord Ares.”

Ares smiled. “I heard you had little love for me in your heart, my good shade. Is it all right if I call you that?”

“As you like. Would my lord excuse me? I’ve an engagement.” He grabbed his spear and stood up.

Ares did not move; silently Achilles cursed himself for allowing himself to be cornered; he must have grown soft in his extended deathly retirement. Ares blocked the way and behind Achilles was a ledge looking out over the very depths of Tartarus; a long way down, in other words.

“Swift-footed Achilles, so eager to get away! Appropriate, I suppose. Stay for a moment, if you please. I would speak to you.”

A strange buzzing had started in the back of Achilles’ head; he felt a certain tenseness in the air that made the skin on the back of his neck prickle, made even worse, perhaps, because the god of war still looked the picture of affability. “Yes, my lord?”

“Positively _servile_ these days, aren’t you?” mused Ares. “To think, the death you dealt when you were yet living! Does it depress you to think of your current state as much as it depresses me? You might give me an answer, shade,” said Ares, when Achilles maintained a stony silence.

“I don’t owe you an answer,” said Achilles. “I serve the House and its master, not you. Excuse me.”

Ares still didn’t budge. “And yet you imparted your knowledge for death-dealing to a most able student, did you not? So you have not forsaken it utterly. That’s good. I want you to fight me, shade.”

“What?”

“I’m trying to goad you into a fight. Is it working?”

Achilles stared.

“I suppose not. You require additional persuasion.”

“I’ll not fight you, Lord Ares. Let me pass.”

Ares maintained his ground. Achilles found himself eying the drop behind him; it was a long fall but it wouldn't kill him.

Nothing would kill him, he reminded himself. He was dead.

But it would hurt and, more importantly, it would make it harder for him to make it back to the House and to Elysium later. He had no desire to follow in Zagreus’ footsteps and take the long way out of Tartarus.

“You did worship me once,” said Lord Ares. “I want to make you remember why. Do you not remember the days when you were promised ageless glory?”

“And look where it got me,” snapped Achilles. “I’m not who I was back then. That isn’t important to me now.”

“Ah yes.” Ares nodded. “I heard about this. You recently found what was important to you again, did you not? With the help of my dutiful cousin.”

Achilles did not like Ares’ tone as he said these words that should have been harmless. “Leave him out of this.”

"Who? My dear cousin or your dear lover?" Achilles refused to answer again. "Come, you were spitting mad just a moment ago. Remind me of his name…."

"Leave them both out of this," said Achilles. 

“ _Patroclus_ , that was it, yes? I remember him quite well." Ares shook his head, maybe genuine sadness in his voice as he went on: "He suffered so in his life because you avoided necessary bloodshed. Why should he suffer in death for that same reason?”

Doom threatened to overwhelm Achilles as he stood with a death grip on his spear, frantic, cornered, and more livid than he had been since he was still a living soul. He tried to measure his tone as he spoke: “Lord Ares, you can’t—”

"Let me explain something to you, shade," said Ares as he held up a hand to quiet Achilles. "I’m here visiting the goddess Nyx. A fascinating and capable woman, I’m sure you agree. She shared with me a fraction of her power. Look here.” He drew out a small mirror, a miniature version of the mirror of night hanging in Zagreus’ bedroom. Ares held it up towards Achilles; for a second Achilles saw only his own face, but the mirror flashed and suddenly the reflection changed to show Patroclus’ familiar form, sitting in his accustomed place, bathed in the cool glow of Elysium.

“There he is,” said Ares, turning the mirror to study Patroclus' features. “I knew I could find him. The power of darkness! Brilliant Achilles, did you ever foresee yourself being brought low by such a power?”

Achilles clutched his spear; he was no longer brilliant, no, he was _incandescent_ with rage. He did not say _you wouldn’t_ , for he knew the god of war did not make idle threats.

“Of course, I can’t kill him," Ares went on. "He’s already dead. But the dead can feel pain, as I think you know. Unimaginable pain. It wouldn’t make me happy to put him in pain but I would do it, and if I left you that mirror you could watch me as I sought him out and did just that. Does that suit you, fair Achilles? Or will you stand and fight?” He continued when Achilles didn’t answer. “It gives me no joy to do this, you know. I simply want a fight and I want you to fight as if you gave a damn.”

“If I fight you,” said Achilles slowly, feeling each word drawn from him like venom extracted from a wound, “you will leave this House, and never speak to me or him again.”

“If you can best me, fair Achilles, then yes, I will honor your proposal. And if I win,” said Ares, “you will worship me once again, before the night is through. Have we got a deal?”

Insulting as it was for Ares to act like he’d given Achilles any meaningful choice, Achilles nodded.

“Excellent,” said the god of war. “Ready yourself. Our battle begins now.” Achilles barely had time to hold up his spear to guard; Ares leapt at him in a tackle, pushing him backwards over the ledge. Together they fell, down into the depths of Tartarus.


End file.
